Red Roses: My MASH Slash Stories
by Moonlit Seductress
Summary: A series of short TH stories (Chapter 8 up)
1. Red Roses

I've decided to start a series of short stories – most of the slash writers have one, so I figured I'd do one too. Enjoy!

Red Roses

Red.

Hawkeye always liked red. His robe was red, he once attended a red themed party. The only red he didn't like was the red blood that leaked into his boots during the long OR sessions.

And he loved red roses best of all. 

_They are walking past a shimmering lake, hand in hand. No fear of discovery, this lake is miles from camp. As they stroll along in the warm sunshine, Hawkeye pauses to stoop beside a single red rose, fingering the velvet soft petals. A gold and black striped bee buzzed around the flower, attracted by the bright colour and heady fragrance. The same things, strangely, that attracted his human companion. _

_Trapper tugs on his hand, impatient to get to their destination, and Hawkeye stands, reluctant to leave the lovely blossom. As night falls, and they nestle together in the privacy of a deep green valley, Trapper rises from his sleeping lover's side, to search out that rose. He places it in Hawkeye's open hand, having stripped off the thorns. _

They always had red roses in some room of their apartment, their practice. Every special occasion, and even those not so special, Trapper would buy his lover a dozen scarlet blooms, just to see the pure joy in Hawkeye's eyes as he was handed his favourite flowers. 

_Hawkeye stands in the Swamp, alone and tearful. His Trapper has gone home, without a goodbye. Or so he thinks. _

_A flash of red against white catches his eye. On his pillow lies a single red rose. Trapper's goodbye._

Trapper had found that same flower, dried and pressed between the pages of a forgotten book, a hint of the fragrance still lingering. He fingered the brittle leaves gently, not wanting them to break. The rose was sort of his calling card, a secret he shared with his beloved. 

_Hawkeye thinks that Trapper has forgotten him, lost him in a score of memories he buries away, because he is a reminder of Korea. _

That same day, in mail call, Hawkeye picks up a strangely lumpy letter addressed to him, staring at the blank space that should have housed a return address. He opens the letter to drop out a single red rose. So he is not forgotten…

Trapper twirls something between his fingers as he walks among the graves, searching for the best kept one. Ah, this is it. His eyes flick over the name on the headstone.

Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce 

His vision blurs with the sudden tears that spring to his eyes. Shaking his head, he drops the item he holds on the grave, as he has done every year, for 10 years. 

A single red rose.

***THE END***

Please review!


	2. Together Now

Just for Holula, another death fic! This is actually an alternative ending to "Kim", so I'm not sure that it belongs in my short stories series, but I'm putting it here anyways. Enjoy!

Together Now

"This is what you call looking after the kid?" Trapper demanded, staring down at a flustered Hot Lips and Frank. "Oh, this war is getting so crowded," Hot Lips stumbled. "Where is the kid, anyways?" Trap asked, looking around in alarm. "He was here a minute ago," Hot Lips asserted, staring around at the waving grasses and trees. Frank's mouth dropped as his eyes picked out the kid, and we followed his stare. To a rock in the middle of the minefield.

"Oh my God!" Trap cried, taking off. I tore after him, skidding to a stop at the edge of the minefield, while Trapper rushed in. "Trap, stop!" He slowed reluctantly. "You wanna make him an orphan again?" I demanded sharply. As realization it him, he stopped dead. "I'll get the maps!" I shouted, heading for the camp at a run, while Hot Lips told the kid to stay put in Korean. I prayed he listened.

I returned with Henry and Radar, as well as the maps. Henry spread it out on the ground, and scanned the map quickly. "Okay McIntyre, you can go 25 feet before you hit one." Trapper looked up. "Eight yards?"

"Just take eight steps," I cautioned, heart in my mouth as I watched him take one, two, three steps. As he raised his foot for the fourth, something in my chest tightened. Something was wrong – I began to shout at him. Too late.

As his foot came down on that fourth step, a mine erupted. Both Trapper and the kid were enveloped in clouds of smoke, as I ran forwards, taking no precautions. Henry reached out and managed to snag the edge of my jacket. "Pierce, just stay here – don't be stupid!" I struggled in his grip, staring out at the thick smoke that concealed the man that I loved. I never told him, and now he was most likely gone. 

The smoke started to clear, and we saw O' Brian fly over the ridge, and lower his rope ladder. As he cleared the smoke, I dropped to my knees – there was only one person on the ladder – much to small to be Trapper. 

O' Brian lowered the kid as the last of the smoke cleared. Margaret pressed the kid to her breast as Trapper became visible. A sob tore from my throat as I saw what was left of him. Henry's grip tightened on me, as if he realized my intent, but he shook with silent sobs. Margaret was trying to console the kid, who was badly frightened, but the tears streaming down her face weren't helping. Radar was white as a ghost, and Frank trembled violently. 

I must have stood, because I was on my feet. Henry released me, and I came to my senses. A split second's indecision, and I was running towards the minefield, taking no notice of where I placed my feet. By some miracle, I reached Trapper's side, tears blurring my vision, the screams of Henry and Radar and Margaret and Frank fading from my hearing as I gripped the hand of the man I loved. His eyes flickered, and met mine, strangely hazy. I had seen that look before – I knew that Trap was going to die. I tried to speak, but I choked on a sob. 

With a pained grin, Trapper spoke. "Love…love you, Hawk." I pressed my lips against his, then raised my head, in time to see his eyes slide shut for the last time. I dropped my face, sobbing into his still chest. Voices reached my ears, hollow and echoing. 

"C'mon, Hawkeye, it's over." Henry stood beside me, Frank and Radar and Margaret hovering behind him. "No," I croaked, finding my voice. "No!" Henry nodded slowly. "Yes. There's nothing you can do." 

"The hell I can't." I grabbed Frank's gun from it's holster, set it against my head, and pulled the trigger. The last thing I saw was Trapper's face, still twisted with pain.

***

We buried Hawkeye and Trapper by the creek they visited often, with only two simple crosses to mark their final resting place. And every year, we return to the graves, no matter where we are. 

Trapper's wife Louise came over to visit her husband's grave, and to finalize the adoption papers. Kim became an American citizen, and was loved by his family, though I can't help but wonder if Louise McIntyre blamed him for Trapper's death.

And now, the crosses are covered by grass, and we have forgotten where they lie. So we mourn at home, for the death of two men, who we all pray are together now. 

***THE END***

Please review!


	3. The Face Of Every Kid

The Face Of Every Kid

Hawkeye was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands jerking spasmodically. His pain filled blue eyes flicked back and forth rapidly, seeing things only he could see. Lips that moved in silence, holding one-sided conversations with invisible specters, replaced his teasing grin. 

Trapper sighed. Hawkeye had been this way for three years now – he had spent a thousand days lost in his own mind. It was that bus incident, Trapper remembered, that planted the seed for Hawkeye Pierce's undoing. 

After his return to the States, Hawkeye went home to Crabapple Cove, to find a surprise on his front porch. Trapper John McIntyre was waiting for him, hadn't forgotten about him after all. Trapper remembered seeing a flash of guilt in Hawkeye's eyes as he ran up the steps – sure, Trapper had left without saying goodbye, but Hawkeye hadn't tried to contact him. Perhaps he forgot, instead of the other way around.

Not saying a word, Hawkeye walked up to Trapper, who stood waiting, hints of a smile playing about his lips. Trapper remembered those first words as clear as if they had been said yesterday.

_"Hi Trapper. Thanks for waiting."_

That was all he had managed before Trapper caught him in a kiss. The rest is history.

And now, Trapper's friend and lover teetered on the edge of a cliff – alone. He blocked out anyone who tried to communicate, speaking instead with those who couldn't hear him. Night was the worst time.

Hawkeye's nightmares started about a month after his homecoming. He would toss and turn, muttering snippets of sentences, the muffled words working their way up into screams – for an unnamed baby, for Henry, Radar, Margaret, Trapper. He would jerk into consciousness, sweat dripping from his face, breath shallow and rapid, eyes wild. At first, Trapper was able to calm him down. But soon, he grew inconsolable, and would take to pacing about the house and yard. 

When Hawkeye locked himself in his room, refusing to come out and face "all of them", Trapper called Sidney Freedman. Who sent Hawkeye to the Portland Mental Rest Home. After all his joking and teasing, Hawkeye Pierce landed himself in the laughing academy. 

He was far from alone. He had a steady stream of visitors – visitors who left the room pale, frightened by the shadow of the lively, teasing man they knew. 

But one day, he fell quiet.

He refused to speak, not meeting Trapper's eyes, ignoring the pleas from the people who loved him. He retreated further into his mind – and in doing so, shut himself off from everyone. He stopped screaming in the night. He just – _stopped_.

Trapper shook himself, a conversation suddenly flashing into his mind. He had been watching an interview with a M*A*S*H unit – the 4077th. He saw Hawkeye, saw how pale and lean he was, saw how vulnerable and frightened he looked. He remembered something Hawkeye said during that interview. The interviewer asked what Hawkeye would take home with him, what memories. Hawkeye's eyes had darkened as he replied. "That's easy. The face of every kid who's ever passed through here."

Trapper reached out to touch Hawkeye's shoulder, shuddering as he realized the other man didn't even notice his presence. "Do you, Hawk? Do you see those kids parading across your mind?" He sighed. "Of course you do. We all do. But why you more so…"

He stood, shaking his head. He didn't know how much longer he could stand seeing Hawkeye like this. If things didn't improve…his thoughts trailed off. How could he condemn the man he loved to death? But worse, how could he condemn him to this life – a fragile, shaky _existence_ – hardly a life. 

With one last look at his tortured lover, Trapper shut the door.

There! No one died! Please review.


	4. My 3 AM's

Disclaimer: I don't own Hawkeye, or Trapper, or the song – they belong to Fox, and the song belongs to Leann Rimes and all her legal people that I really don't want a visit from. 
    
    My 3 A.M.'s
    
    I pulled away from Hawkeye, who murmured slightly, reaching out in his sleep, for the warmth removed from his grasp. Tucking the blanket back around him, I massaged his hair gently, before turning and stuffing more wood in the stove. Winter in Korea is one of the cruelest things I've ever experienced, and tonight was breaking records like the three foot icicles that broke off the buildings. 
    
    I returned to the warmth of body heat and Hawkeye, resting my cheek on his silky hair. I waited for sleep, but I guess the Sandman knocked me off his list, because I found myself thinking, as opposed to dreaming. 
    
    My thoughts wandered until they found a comfortable subject – Hawkeye. It made sense, since most roommates don't spend winter nights cocooned up with each other – unless they're co – ed roommates. But Hawk and I, we're different…
    
    I found myself thinking about Hawkeye – and not just fantasies, which I make realities as often as possible – but just being close to him, being able to hold him, and how nuts I'd go if I couldn't.
    
    _I don't need a lot of things,_
    
    _I can get by with nothing_
    
    I'm a simple man, I think. I don't ask a lot – food, shelter, the basics. But when it came to love…well, there, I'm a bit more picky. 
    
    Now, don't get me wrong. I love my wife and kids, they're the centre of my world. But this isn't the same world – this is Korea, and in Korea, things are different. Unorthodox. In Korea, you have to get along with what you're given. Thank God I was given someone like Hawkeye. 
    
    _Of all the blessings life can bring,_
    
    _I've always needed something_
    
    _But I've got all I want_
    
    _When it comes to loving you_
    
    Hawkeye is like my anchor, an anchor that keeps me grounded, keeps me from being swept away by this massive sea of terror and cruelty and blood and pain and so many other things. He keeps me sane, by helping me to be insane, and I think if I didn't have him, I'd go absolutely bonkers.
    
    _You're my only reason,_
    
    _You're my only truth_
    
    I literally live, eat, sleep, breathe Hawkeye Pierce – and I love every part of him. His cynical thoughts, his lame jokes, his mood swings, his melancholy utterances about war, and everything in between. Our relationship goes so far beyond the normal point for "friends"…we're more like soulmates. I belong to him, and he belongs to me. 
    
    _I need you like water_
    
    _Like breath, like rain_
    
    _I need you like mercy_
    
    _From heaven's gate_
    
    Hawkeye is one of those people who allow you to open up, and really be yourself, right down to the core. He's accepting and compassionate, and he just…_understands_. 
    
    _There's a freedom in your arms_
    
    _That carries me through_
    
    _I need you_
    
    And sometimes, especially at these sleepless 3 A.M.'s, I find myself thinking about what life in Korea would be like if I didn't have Hawkeye. And often, I find myself pale and shaking, even from just imagining. Very few people can have an impact like that, but that's Hawkeye.
    
    _You're the hope that moves me_
    
    _To courage again_
    
    _You're the love that rescues me_
    
    _When the cold winds rage_
    
    And what's really funny is that he doesn't even know how much he affects the people here. We would really just fall apart if we didn't have our Hawkeye – even Frank and Hot Lips. He's the core of this place, and he has no clue. And again, that's Hawkeye.
    
    _And it's so amazing_
    
    _'Cause that's just how you are_
    
    _And I can't turn back now_
    
    _'Cause you've brought me too far_
    
    And then morning rolls around, and we have to wake up, get back to reality, and back to separate bunks, before Frank comes back. But those 3 A.M.'s haunt me, linger through the rest of the day, and I find myself bringing those thoughts up, over and over.
    
    _I need you like water_
    
    _Like breath, like rain_
    
    _I need you like mercy_
    
    _From heaven's gate_
    
    _There's a freedom in your arms_
    
    _That carries me through_
    
    _I need you_
    
    And maybe one day, I'll get around to telling Hawkeye all of this, tell him just what he means to the people around here. But till then, these thoughts stay stuck with me, in my sleepless 3 A.M.'s
    
    _I need you like water_
    
    _Like breath, like rain_
    
    _I need you like mercy_
    
    _From heaven's gate_
    
    _There's a freedom in your arms_
    
    _That carries me through_
    
    _I need you_
    
    ***The End***
    
    Please review!


	5. Comet

Comet

Your hand touches mine through the glove, and I nearly pass out. I can't concentrate, I'm sweating, and my hands are shaking. And it's all your fault.

You stand there, oblivious to the trouble you are causing me, talented hands digging into some soldier's chest. You and I normally work like a well-oiled machine, but today, I seem to be making all the mistakes. To your credit, you say nothing. Your eyes flick from your patient, to the nurse, to the other doctors – and for a split second, me. Even the briefest flash of eye contact sends my heart rate skyrocketing. 

You stand six inches away, and yet you're impermeable, untouchable. A comet, streaking across a star strewn sky, dazzling the people below with your mystery and beauty. You don't live among us, you simply visit, bestowing the honour of your unearthly presence on us from time to time. And you're the reason I'm standing here, sewing my fingers together. You have rendered me speechless and untalented. A rare occurrence.

But maybe I should explain my flowery poetry. From the first day I knew you, I fell in love. Blue eyes met hazel, and I began to tremble. All thoughts of any women were pushed violently from my head as you extended a hand. That first touch alone spawned a thousand fantasies. 

And now, here I am, a lovesick fool, something I always promised myself I wouldn't be.

At first, it was hard to understand. I couldn't think of why your face floated into every dream I had, why my heart raced when I saw you. You are, after all, a guy – and I thought I was straight as an arrow. I guess not.

But it's better now. I have come to terms with the fact that I can never be placed in the "normal" category – although I'm not sure I ever fit in there.

And still, you stand there, in the dark about what you do to me. Maybe tonight is the night I'll finally be able to tell you how I feel.

Because there won't always be another day.

***The End***

So…is it Hawkeye telling the story, or Trapper. I'm going to let you decide who you think it is!


	6. Bittersweet

Bittersweet

Your lips meet mine, but I can taste the hesitation, taste the fear, the blankness. And I whisper words of comfort, but it changes nothing – still the hesitation, the fear. And I know you're not thinking about me, about us. You're thinking about your wife and kids, and what this could do to you, to them, if we're discovered. And I really can't blame you.

And even as you return my frantic touches, still the hesitation, the fear. It's understandable, but I have just as much to lose. I may not be married, or have children, but medicine is all I know…

And still, you respond, afraid to turn me away. But it's not fair, and I can't do this to you. This ends tonight.

I pull away, get up, walk out the door, leaving you with a wistful, but slightly relieved look on your face. You love me – I know it, you've said it, you mean it. But you can't do anything about it, and I'm forcing you, and it's not fair. I'll release you tonight.

I go down to the river, pad and pencil in hand, and write my note. I take up my knife, and carefully place the blade against my skin. As I press down, the blood begins to flow. Of course, I know just where to cut to make it fast…

And now…and now I'm gone. And I stand, shake myself, get used to the sight of my own body, lying on the bloodstained grass. I look bad…maybe I should have found a better way. Less messy.

And you appear, and you see me. And you fall to your knees, tears spill from your eyes. And I want to comfort you, touch you, but it's too late. I've made my decision. 

And you're crying, holding my lifeless body close, dripping my blood on your clothes. And I watch and I listen – listen to the words you couldn't tell me when I was alive. And it's bittersweet.

And time passes, and I follow you. You go home to your family, and I follow you. I follow for many years, until you're old and gray and stooped. Almost ready for your long, rich life to draw to and end. And I'm waiting. And it's bittersweet.

Because I know that I'll finally have you, but…not the way I wanted. But it's too late now. What's done is done. So I wait.

And soon, my waiting is over. You stand, shake yourself, looking as young as I first met you. And you look at me and gasp. And then you understand. 

As you stare at your peaceful, still body, so different from mine, so many years ago, you come to terms. And turn to me. Saying nothing, you offer a hand. I accept. And we're together. But it's so bittersweet. 

Do I still love you? I don't know. It's been so long. I sacrificed myself for you, all that time ago. Do you care? Do I care? We'll never know.

And now I have you, now you're mine, forever and always. But it's too late.

And bittersweet.


	7. Soon Hi

Soon Hi

Someone knocked on the door of the VIP tent. "Come in," Meg Cratty called, unlocking the door. A tall figure walked in, ducking under the doorframe. "I think I've got something that belongs to you." Hawkeye Pierce's voice floated from behind the lifeless figure in his arms. 

"Sit down, Hawkeye," Meg offered, pulling out a chair. She was far from surprised to find him at her door so late at night. She and Hawkeye were close – sometimes she though she was as much of a mother to him as she was to her orphans. He sat, and shifted the sleeping child in his arms. A smile was on his lips, and his blue eyes sparkled gently, as he gazed down at the orphaned girl. Meg noticed who it was – Soon Hi. She was one of the newest additions to the orphanage, and at about two years old, she was still very clingy, preferring to be in someone's arms rather than by herself. Meg grinned. With the child's dark, rich hair, and her blue eyes – inherited from her American G.I. father – she looked like Hawkeye enough to be his daughter. 

She flicked her gaze back to the doctor, who was gently rocking the small girl. He looked good with children. Most people couldn't see Hawkeye Pierce as a father, but it was easy for Meg to picture him with kids. He had the compassionate, loving nature that would make his little girls feel like princesses, and a fun – loving, understanding nature that would make his boys view him as a friend and confident, instead of just a father. 

"So," Meg began, breaking the silence. "Trapper John's gone home, huh?" She noted the suddenly clenched jaw and fist, and knew she was touching a nerve. "Yeah," he replied, voice shot though with anger and sadness, and a bit of remorse. Why, Meg was pretty sure she knew. "What's the new guy like – BJ, right? He seems nice enough." 

Hawkeye shrugged. "He's a great guy, but…" he trailed off. "But he's not Trapper," Meg finished. Hawkeye nodded, the soft glitter in his eyes replaced with a sort of blankness. "He was the best thing to ever happen to me, the best friend I ever had, and I never even got to say goodbye." He tightened his hold on the sleeping girl, perhaps subconsciously, and continued. "I'm just…at a loss without him. I don't know what to do with myself." 

As Meg reached out to touch his shoulder, the tears that he had been suppressing began to trail down his cheeks. Meg moved to stand behind him, stroking his hair comfortingly, as he held Soon Hi, whose eyes drifted open. As he freed one hand to wipe his eyes, the little girl reached up, placing her tiny hand on his cheek. He gave her a small smile, furiously blinking back more tears. 

Shifting so she was standing on his thighs, Soon Hi carefully leaned in to wrap her small arms around his neck. Hawkeye laughed through his tears. "Talk about your role reversal. Here I am, crying like a baby, and she's the one trying to make me feel better." Meg smiled. "Is it working?" she asked. He nodded. "Definitely." He released the little girl, leaning her back so he could talk to her face to face. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said softly, tucking a piece of raven hair behind her shoulder. 

Soon Hi, who had no idea what he said, shot him a pearly smile, before returning to her previous position, coiled in his arms. Standing slowly, Hawkeye carefully laid the child on Meg's bunk. He straightened, and turned to Meg. "Thanks, Meg," he said, giving her a hug. She smiled at him. "No problem, honey." As he prepared to leave, the nurse called out. "Hawkeye?" He turned back. 

"Do yourself a favour, hon," Meg advised. "Call Trapper. You'll thank youself." Hawkeye nodded, before turning and walking out. Meg gazed at the door. Yes, Hawkeye would be alright. It would take time, but he would heal. And when this stupid war ended, he would go find Trapper. Yes, Meg thought to herself. They'll be one good thing to come out of this hell.

***The End***

Please review!


	8. Tarnished Paradise

Disclaimer: If I need one, then that obviously means they're mine. 

Tarnished Paradise

I was drunk.

Not overly soused, just feeling a nice buzz – you know, the happy, all's – right – with – the – world attitude. That's how I was that night. That night that it all stopped making sense.

I was draped in my chair, head resting comfortably on your broad shoulder while you talked with Henry. And I remember how warm your body was, how soothing it was. And I remember thinking, in my alcohol – soaked mind, wondering vaguely why I was only noticing this now. You were always warm, even when it was cold. Warm when we sat, close together at the tables in the mess tent. Warm those frigid nights, when we all bunked together. 

I must have made some sort of noise – maybe I yawned, I don't remember that – because you looked down at me, practically sleeping on your shoulder, and told Henry you'd better get me to bed. And I remember feeling the deep vibrations of your familiar voice rumbling through your body. 

You carefully stood, hauling me up gently with you. And I remember, I was perfectly capable of walking, but the warmth of your body, pressed up against mine, your arm a solid feeling around my shoulders as you guided me back to the Swamp, was just to nice to pass up. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and just let you bring me home. 

You dropped me softly on my bunk, but I had somehow managed to thread my fingers through the chain of your dogtags, and you fell on top of me. You made no move to leave, so I snuggled closer to your warmth, willing sleep. 

But for some reason, I couldn't fall asleep. I opened my eyes to find yours, gazing at me. You were propped up on one elbow, one hand frozen above my head, as if you had just been about to touch me. Your voice was husky as you murmured my name, dropping the hand to stroke my cheek gently. I nuzzled into the strangely soft roughness of your hands. And I remember the odd anticipation that was growing in me. 

Your eyes were glowing slightly in the dim light, broadcasting your conflicted feelings. You opened your mouth to speak, but I closed the insignificant gap between us, and captured your lips with mine.

And I remember, it was different, from kissing a woman. Your lips were chapped and slightly rough, while I was used to smooth and soft. But somehow, this felt…right. 

Your hand came up to circle around the back of my head, twisting through my hair. Our tongues met, sending shivers down my spine. We broke apart, and I remember how the hesitant look had left your eyes, replaced by determination, pleasure, and…something else, that I couldn't identify. Love? I wasn't sure. But it didn't matter at the time. 

Things got more and more heated, and soon, we both had our shirts off. You were sucking on my pulsebeat, while I flicked one taut nipple. 

And I remember that I remembered that time Frank and I caught you in the supply tent with Hot Lips. You said "Does paradise need a meaning?" – sure, just to annoy Frank, which it did. But I remembered those words, and they seemed to fit this situation. 

But suddenly, something in me woke up. What were we doing? You were married! Married with two kids, and there we were, making out like two lusty teenagers in the backseat of a Buick. So I pulled away, turned away from your hurt eyes. I couldn't bear to face that devastated look on your beautiful face. you started to ask, but I simply pointed to the picture of your wife and kids on the table. Your eyes filled with pain, but understanding. 

"_Someday_."

Yes. Someday it wouldn't matter. Someday we could take this to the level it was meant to. But not today. 

So, you returned to your bunk, leaving me cold and sad. And I returned to my now tarnished dreams, waiting for that day.

***The End***

Please please please review!


	9. Lead Me Through The Fire

Heyo, me again, well no duh. I haven't done much for a while, but I've been super mega busy. Anyways, this is a quick fic, based on the episode "Rainbow Bridge". The bits in italics are from Sarah McLachlan's _Fallen_, which belongs to her and all her legal stuff I don't want to mess with. Enjoy!

Lead Me Through The Fire

I stared into the crackling embers, watching the flames dance, so beautiful, but deadly. A touch on my shoulder made me look up. Trapper's hazel eyes, filled with apprehensive concern, looked back at me. "You ok?" he asked. I nodded, returning my gaze to the fire. In a few short hours, we would be crossing the line between somewhat ensured stability, and unpredictable danger.

_Heaven bend to take my hand_

_And lead me through the fire_

I broke away from the fire to look back at Trapper, who was reading a letter from home, the wavering light catching the glints of blonde in his hair. I loved him – all of a sudden, I realized it was true. More than a friend, more than I've loved anyone before. And now, just when I came to my senses, the chances were high that I could lose him. 

Well, I'll be damned if I'll let that happen…

I stood, and he looked up immediately, watching bemused as I came to sit next to him. I reached out for his hand, stroking the long, slim, surgeon's fingers. "Look, Trap, none of really knows what's gonna happen tomorrow. I mean, I hope it's not true, but we could all…we could all die tomorrow." 

He opened his mouth to speak, but I plunged ahead. If I didn't say this now, I'd never say it. "And I'd really rather not leave you without telling you…telling you that I love you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the explosion of disgust, so it really shocked me when I felt the gentlest of touches on my lips.  I opened my eyes. Trap was smiling at me, one hand reaching up to stroke my face. "I know, you dummy," he said affectionately. "I've always known. What, you don't think I feel the same way?" 

Be the long awaited answer 

_To a long and painful fight_

As we kissed, slowly, sweetly, savouring these new, unexplored feelings, everything fell into place. This was what I was waiting for, this was where I belonged, this was completely and totally right. 

I sighed, pulling his arms tighter around me, snuggling closer to his warmth. Just being held was all I needed, the comfort to drive away the fear of the unknown. It didn't matter what happened tomorrow, or any day after that now. Because I had had at least one night.

*The End*

Please review!


End file.
